Title: Doggie Style

Author:enchanted_jae
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, other characters from HP, a couple OMCs
Rating: NC17
Summary: When Draco's life is endangered, he demands only the best bodyguard the Aurors have to offer. However, he didn't expect his bodyguard to be so...small.
Warnings (if any): Explicit sex, language, minor violence
Total word count: 6388
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's notes (if any): I had a doggone good time writing this, and I hope my recipients have as much fun reading it!
Beta(s):sassy_cissa

Doggie Style

"Potter!" barked Shacklebolt. "You're off the Bell case. Something more important has come up. Follow me."

Harry rose from his desk with a frown and trailed after the head of the Auror department, catching up to Shacklebolt in his office. "We haven't discovered who Katie's stalker is yet," he remarked, protesting his removal from the case. 

"As I said, something more urgent has come up," Shacklebolt repeated with a scowl. Motioning for Harry to sit, he slid a file across his desk to the other Auror.

Harry flipped it open, quirking an eyebrow at the glossy photo in front. "Draco Malfoy?" he asked.

"Someone is threatening his life," Kingsley remarked.

"Someone other than me, you mean?" quipped Harry, smirking slightly. 

"This is serious, Potter. Malfoy is wealthy, comes from a prominent family, and he's famous and popular in his own right. He's a media darling, and society loves him. We need to assign someone to protect him, yet still be able to keep it discreet."

"I hope you're not counting on me to be discreet," Harry countered, reaching to touch his famous scar. 

"Not in this form, no," replied his boss, a distinctly evil smile splitting his dark face.

"Oh, no," Harry protested at once. "Absolutely not. I refuse."

"You're taking this assignment, and that's final," Kingsley stated in his best no-nonsense voice. "Malfoy is paying an exorbitant amount of money for our protection. He has demanded the best, and you're it."

"I don't want to be the best," Harry whined, slumping back in his chair. From the implacable glare on Shacklebolt's face, he had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be getting his own way this time.

*****

Once Draco arrived inside the Ministry, he removed his dark glasses and the hat he'd tucked his hair up beneath, then began to saunter through the atrium on his way to the Auror department. Upon reaching his destination, he was directed to Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. The head of the Aurors beckoned him inside and closed the door, gesturing for Draco to take a seat. Draco sat down, glancing curiously at the tiny toy dog that was sitting primly on the sofa against the far wall. It was one of those nouveau-chic, long-haired chihuahuas that so many Muggle starlets liked to carry around as fashion accessories. This one was tan in color, and actually rather cute, although Draco would have figured Shacklebolt for a more manly dog, like a Rottweiler or a Great Dane. Shrugging mentally, he turned his attention to the man behind the desk. 

Kingsley leaned back and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "Tell me what's going on, Malfoy."

Draco scowled and straightened in his seat. "I received a package at my home yesterday," he began. "Actually, several packages arrived, but that's not unusual, since so many witches and wizards like to send me their intimate apparel, and..."

"Get to the point," Shacklebolt interrupted.

Draco frowned, but he continued, "My father has drilled into me the necessity of checking each package I receive for any skullduggery before I open it, which is fortunate, because yesterday, one parcel in particular had some rather nasty charms placed on it."

"And you think this was an attempt on your life?" questioned the other man.

"Considering that the package was filled with shards of glass and was charmed to explode upon opening, I daresay it was an attempt to kill me," Draco replied, voice grave.

"Any ideas on who may wish to see you dead?"

Draco sighed and shrugged. "I've made a fair few enemies--former Death Eaters and their children who are jealous of how well the Malfoys came out of the War, perhaps a random stranger who is envious of my wealth and good looks, or even a crazed, psychotic fan." Grinning, he added, "Of course, it could have been Harry Potter, for all I know."

"Potter?" Shacklebolt asked sharply. 

"I was joking," Draco replied with a smirk. "Potter and I haven't crossed paths in months." Shacklebolt huffed in irritation, so Draco got to the point. "I want the best bodyguard you have available, and I'm willing to pay for the privilege."

"You're looking at him."

"You?"

"No," replied Kingsley. And with a gesture at the cute, tiny dog, he said, "Him."

"That puffskein?" Draco goggled. He fell back in his chair laughing. Once he'd gotten his mirth under control, Draco straightened in his seat, swiping at the tears in his eyes. "You're having me on, right?"

Shacklebolt's face remained impassive. In answer, he beckoned to the dog, and it jumped onto the floor, transforming a heartbeat later into none other than...

"Potter?!" squeaked Draco, leaning back in alarm.

"Malfoy," Harry responded coolly, standing with feet braced apart and arms crossed over his chest. 

Draco blinked rapidly in surprise, then one of his patented smirks spread across his face. "Your Animagus form is a chihuahua?!"

*****

Harry had never been so outraged, nor so humiliated, in his entire life. 

Once Malfoy had been convinced of the merits of having the best bodyguard the Aurors had to offer accompany him wherever he went while disguised in his Animagus form, he had seized the opportunity to play up his role as spoiled, flamboyant society darling by insisting that Harry would need to be an accessory, as were all the toy pets that the Muggle models and actresses carried about. Harry ranted and threatened, but in the end, he made his public debut with Malfoy wearing a ridiculous green sweater that the git had bought at a pet shop. Harry made sure to bite Malfoy as he was being dressed in his doggie sweater, but that only earned him a sharp rap on the nose and a threat that he'd be muzzled if he didn't behave. 

Draco arrived in wizarding London's poshest district with his usual dramatic flair--chauffeured in a black limousine by Arnold, his squib driver. He was met by a throng of paparazzi from The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and Wizards Quarterly. Almost immediately, they began shouting questions about his new pet. 

"When did you get a dog, Draco?"

"He's a new acquisition," replied Draco, holding Harry up for photographs. 

"What's his name?"

"Princess," beamed Draco, struggling not to fall over laughing as he felt a growl rumble through Potter's tiny body.

"I thought you said he?"

"Yes, but I didn't realize at first he was a boy," Draco explained. "He's just so cute, and his balls are quite tiny..." his words were halted when Potter's teeth sank into his thumb. Draco managed to keep the grimace off his face as he surreptitiously pried his digit from Potter's tenacious grip. Once he'd freed his thumb, Draco took one of Potter's dainty front paws and waved it for a final photo opportunity before disappearing into the restaurant. 

***** 

The security gates closed behind the black limo as it turned into his estate, and Draco turned to the toy dog seated next to him, saying proudly, "Welcome to my home, Potter."

Harry padded across the seat and stood on his hind legs to peer out the tinted window. Malfoy's estate was smaller than his family's Manor, but no less grand. The car pulled to a halt in front of the entrance, and Arnold got out and opened the door for Draco. Harry hopped out next to Malfoy and trotted along behind him as he led the way into the house. He waited until he was safely inside before transforming once more into his human self. Harry immediately rounded on Malfoy.

"Princess?!" he spat. "What the fuck, Malfoy?"

Free now to laugh at his old rival, Draco sagged against the nearest chair while he howled with mirth. "I wish...I wish I could have...seen the look...the look on your face, Potter," he gasped, wiping away tears of laughter.

Harry took a threatening step nearer, hands clenched into fists. "You needn't worry about some stranger trying to kill you, Malfoy, because I have every intention of doing it, myself!" 

Draco ducked aside when Potter actually reached for his throat. "Now, now," he chided. "What would Shacklebolt have to say about you offing your client?"

"Under the circumstances, I think I'd be absolved," gritted Harry. 

"It was a harmless joke, Potter," Draco said, waving him off. "Now, come along while I give you the grand tour."

*****

After dinner, Draco was reading in his well-appointed study, while Potter busied himself going over the contents of the file he had on the case. Occasionally, he would interrupt Draco to ask a question about a particular acquaintance, or some of the more unsavory characters from his past. Draco was having a difficult time recalling that this annoying, strangely attractive man in his house and the adorable pooch he'd been carting about during the day were one and the same. He smirked to himself as he realized that he would have nearly unlimited opportunities to harass Potter when they were out in public. Of course, that didn't preclude some additional harassment while they were safely ensconced in his home. 

"Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"When you're in your Animagus form, do you ever lick your balls?"

Harry raised narrowed eyes to his host's smirking face. Biting back the urge to engage in childish sniping with Malfoy, he opted instead to reply, "I prefer to lick other blokes' balls."

Draco's jaw dropped. Potter was gay? "You're gay?" he blurted. 

"Yes, Malfoy, I'm gay," Harry replied in a bored tone, his attention once more on the file. The problem with Malfoy's case was that he had a lot of enemies, but none that really...

"How did I not know you were gay?" Draco was having a hard time letting go of the subject, now that it had come up. Speaking of things that had come up, his cock gave an eager throb when Potter glared up at him again with that smoldering look in his green eyes. "Well, this certainly changes things," Draco murmured.

Potter, who had looked away, glanced up at him sharply once more. "Don't try to tell me you feel as though I can't do my job," he said, a definite edge to his voice.

"No, that's not it at all," Draco hastily reassured him. "It's just that it could make this assignment of yours very interesting," he added, allowing his gaze to sweep over Potter in a frank appraisal.

"Keep your trousers on, Malfoy," Harry said coolly. "I don't make a habit of bedding the people whom I'm hired to protect."

Draco pulled a frown. "Spoilsport."

Later that evening, Draco made a final notation in his financial ledger, then leaned back in his chair to stretch. "I'm going to retire for the evening," he announced, rising to his feet. Potter switched off the telly he'd been watching and stood as well. Draco grinned salaciously. "Are you going to sleep on my bed like a good little doggie?" he inquired.

"No, I'm going to sleep in the adjoining room, like a good bodyguard," Harry countered tonelessly.

"Prude," muttered Draco.

*****

Bright and early the following morning, Draco received a visitor.

"Draco, darling!" cried Pansy Parkinson, flinging her arms around her friend as soon as his house-elf showed her into the parlor. Draco struggled to free himself before he could be smothered in Pansy's ample bosom. Pansy stepped back, allowing Draco to breathe once more, and demanded, "Now, where's that adorable little dog of yours?"

Potter, who had transformed as soon as the identity of Draco's caller was established, plastered his tiny body against the sofa cushions, in hopes of remaining unseen. "Princess!" called Pansy, looking about. "Princess?" Her eyes swept over the sofa, and she squealed and rushed forward, snatching Harry up and clutching him to her breasts while she cooed to him. "Oh, such a darling little doggie woggie," she simpered, stroking his head. 

Harry's eyes darted frantically to Malfoy, only to see the rotten prick nearly doubled over in silent laughter. 

"Draco!" Pansy's sharp voice sobered Draco instantly, and he carefully composed his face before turning to his friend with a raised eyebrow. "You never told me you were considering getting a pet," accused Pansy.

"Er, it was a, uh, a snap decision," Draco stammered in reply. "I saw him in a Muggle shelter--you know the one I donate huge sums of money to?--and he looked so pathetic and frightened, that I was moved to liberate him and bring him home with me. Of course, I thought he was a girl at first, what with that feminine-looking face and prissy coat..."

"Nonsense," Pansy scoffed. "It's obvious he's a he, and he's quite a handsome lad, too." She held Harry away from her and turned him this way and that. "You should change his name, however," she mused. 

Harry shot Malfoy a triumphant look, only to have his hopes dashed when Pansy suggested, "How about Cuddles?"

"Perhaps Puddles, since he's not quite housebroken yet," countered Draco, hiding a smirk as Pansy squeaked and hastily set Potter on the floor. 

Harry scampered away and hid behind the sofa. If it was possible to blush in this form, he knew his face would be red from being smothered by Parkinson's breasts. 

*****

If Harry had thought it was torture to be paraded in front of the media and dubbed Princess, it was nothing compared to being hauled to Malfoy Manor to visit Narcissa Malfoy. Draco sailed into the door, holding Harry in his arms, and leaned in to give his mother a kiss on each cheek. "You look lovely today, Mum," he complimented.

"Thank you, Draco," Narcissa responded stiffly, gazing in distaste at Harry. "Must you bring that dog inside?" she sniffed.

"Oh, yes," Draco answered brightly. "If left alone too long, he has a tendency to shred things."

"I see," Narcissa frowned. "Perhaps we can have tea in the garden."

"A splendid idea," Draco concurred, gesturing for his mother to lead the way. 

Once the Malfoys were comfortably seated outdoors, Harry settled beneath Draco's chair and rested his head on his paws. Since he hadn't slept well the night before, a snooze seemed in order. He reckoned the Malfoy heir was safer here than anywhere else, which meant no harm would come of him dozing on the warm flagstones. Having let his guard down, Harry was unaware of approaching danger until it grabbed him by the tail...literally.

Narcissa's tea sloshed in her cup when a sudden disturbance beneath Draco's chair startled her. There was a sudden, sharp yip, followed by a snarl and a squawk as one of the white peahens fluttered into a short, ungainly flight from the scene, minus two tail feathers. "Draco!" cried Narcissa, "your wretched little dog attacked one of my peahens!"

"I daresay it was the other way around," drawled Draco, bending over to scoop an enraged Potter into his arms. A white tail feather still protruded from his mouth. When Draco tried to remove it, he heard a menacing growl. "There, there, Princess," he cooed, tugging gently on the plumage. "Give daddy the feather." He managed to pull it free, revealing Potter's tiny face. The dainty dog had his ears flattened to his skull, and his lips were drawn back, baring his sharp little teeth. 

Narcissa's cup clattered into its saucer. "Draco, I would like you to remove that cur from my presence immediately."

*****

"I can't believe you insulted my mother!" raged Draco as soon as they returned to his house and Potter transformed himself.

"Her fucking peacock attacked me!" 

"It was a peahen," Draco corrected him tightly, "and it didn't attack you. It merely...nibbled your ratty tail."

"How would you like it if someone bit your tail?" snapped Harry.

Draco immediately turned and stuck his arse out in invitation. 

Harry cursed and stomped from the room.

"Uptight prig," sighed Draco.

*****

The next couple days passed in a whirlwind of activity, as Draco refused to allow the situation to leave him cloistered at home under Auror protection. He might like to be under Potter in the bedroom, but otherwise, it felt stifling. He continued to go out publicly, deriving as much enjoyment from dressing Potter up for the occasion as he did from simply getting out of the house. Potter growled at him in both his human and Animagus forms, prompting Draco to pretend a swoon, claiming he loved it when the Auror growled. 

The media continued dogging them, and Draco took advantage of the situation to cuddle "Princess" close. He got nipped a few times, but it was worth it. 

Potter remained vigilant, but there were no attempts made to harm Draco while he was out in public. However, all packages addressed to him were now being rerouted to the Ministry, where several lackeys had the pleasure of sifting through them for anything dangerous or threatening. One such package was found to contain a poisonous substance, but it was neutralized before anyone was harmed. When Potter learned of it that evening at Draco's home, he engaged in more of that growling that made Draco's cock hard and his toes curl. He was more determined than ever to get Potter in bed. To that end, he began plotting a campaign of seduction.

*****

Harry had tried his utmost to be professional, but there was only so much a hot-blooded gay male could do when faced with Malfoy's intense sex appeal for several days. It was for that reason that he found himself in Malfoy's bedroom, watching the vexing blond undress. As he finished divesting himself of his clothing, Malfoy arranged himself in an artful pose on the bed and raised an eyebrow at him. 

When Potter grasped the hem of his shirt and tugged it off, revealing a rugged physique, Draco whistled softly and quipped, "Ay, chihuahua."

Harry paused with one hand on his zip and scowled. "Do you want to get shagged, or not?" he snapped.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Draco responded with a wicked grin. His grin widened as he said, "So, Potter, I suppose you'll be wanting to do it doggie style." He smirked, pleased with his ability to still think clearly enough to come up with a clever comment.

Harry's trousers hit the floor and he stepped out of them, palming the erection still hidden behind his boxers. "Yes, Malfoy. I intend to hump your leg," he deadpanned. Malfoy pulled a frown, but before he could say anything else, Harry whisked off his last article of clothing and remarked, "I think I do want to do this doggie style. Get on your fours, bitch."

"I say, Potter," Draco protested, sitting up stiffly.

"What's wrong?" taunted Harry. "You can dish out the canine jokes, but you can't take them?" He stalked to the edge of the bed and knelt upon it, skipping any preliminaries and reaching for Malfoy's cock, savoring the other's groan of delight. "On your fours, Malfoy," Harry repeated. "I'll make it worth your while."

Draco glared, or tried to. It was a difficult maneuver, considering that his eyes were trying to roll back in his head at the sensation of a rough hand fisting his prick. Deciding he'd take it out of Potter's hide later, Draco reluctantly rolled over, presenting his arse in a submissive posture. 

"Lube?"

Draco gestured to the side table, and Potter helped himself to the jar in the drawer. When a slick finger began swirling around the crinkled flesh at his entrance, Draco moaned and tightened his fingers in the bedding. Potter continued to tease him in that manner, until Draco finally snapped. "Get on with it, damn you!"

"Patience, Malfoy," came the chuckle from behind him. 

"I've been patient," Draco gritted out. He squeaked when the finger suddenly breached his body, then hummed in pleasure and pushed himself further onto the invading digit. A second finger joined the fun, followed by a third. By then, Draco was panting and on the verge of begging for more.

Malfoy's responses were driving Harry mad with the need to bury himself inside the blond, and he pulled his fingers free and gripped Malfoy's hips to stop his squirming. Guiding his cock into place, he plunged into Malfoy's loosened hole, earning a groan of appreciation from the other man.

Draco arched to take more of Potter's length, growing frustrated when his new lover seemed intent on taking things slowly. "Fuck me, Potter," he growled. "I'm not going to break."

Harry elected to take Malfoy at his word, withdrawing his penis then ramming it back home, causing the small clock on his partner's headboard to wobble precariously. 

The force knocked Draco forward, onto his face, and he suddenly found himself having to brace against the pounding he was being subjected to. Rather than protesting, however, he was very vocal in his encouragement, nearly yowling in pleasure as he got the fucking of a lifetime. Knowing that he'd be wearing bruises tomorrow, and that he'd still ache from Potter's rough possession of him only added to his enjoyment of the experience. 

Harry was concerned he wouldn't last long--Malfoy was too hot and responsive, and he'd been too long without sex. It didn't help matters when Malfoy suddenly puffed, "Don't you...dare come...before me."

"Give yourself...a wank, then," Harry huffed out in reply. 

Draco nearly fell on his face once more as he shifted his weight to one forearm so as to grasp his aching cock with the other hand. After a few rough tugs, he was coming all over his expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. A particularly hard thrust from Potter planted Draco face first into his pillow once more, but he only had the energy to turn and rest his cheek there, allowing Potter to plunder him at will. A moment later, he felt the results of Potter's climax flooding his insides, followed by the weight of his lover collapsing over his back, pressing his face further into his pillow. "I can't breathe," he complained.

"I can't move," muttered Harry. "Didn't you know that when dogs fuck, their cocks get stuck inside their partners for an hour?"

"What?!" Draco screeched, trying to twist away. 

Harry laughed and pulled free of him. "Relax, Malfoy," he chuckled. "It was a joke. Consider it payback for that doggie style crack you made earlier."

"You worthless wanker," Draco bitched, taking a half-hearted swing at him. Potter deflected it easily, then nudged Draco onto his side and spooned up behind him. 

With a yawn, Harry said, "Get some sleep, prima donna." 

*****

Over the next two days, Harry continued to accompany Draco wherever he went in public, and he also continued sleeping with his client. Once the line had been crossed, he justified it by rationalizing that it was easier to protect Malfoy at night when they were sharing a bed. He found himself relaxing around Malfoy, and Harry even came to appreciate his keen intellect and sarcastic sense of humor. He found himself wondering how difficult he would find it to walk away when this case was wrapped up.

Once he'd seduced Potter into his bed, Draco was pleased that the Auror seemed willing to share it each night with no further effort on his part. They were surprisingly compatible on a sexual level, as each of them enjoyed trading off roles as top or bottom. Draco had had many lovers, but none that satisfied him like Potter did. He also came to appreciate his new lover's personality--something which he'd never anticipated in regards to Potter. He began to wonder if there was a way to keep Potter once the threat to his life was dealt with.

On this morning, Draco glanced up from his breakfast and was annoyed to see Rita Skeeter approaching his table in the cafe, her ever-present quill floating along behind her. Dammit, he tipped generously so as not to be disturbed in this manner. Skeeter must have doled out a significant bribe to be allowed through. 

"May I?" she inquired, taking the seat across from him without waiting for an answer. 

Reluctant to cause a scene, Draco pursed his lips in irritation and waited for whatever Skeeter was prepared to dish. 

"So, Draco...may I call you Draco?" began the reporter. "Rumor has it you are now refusing all packages addressed to you; is there a reason for this?"

Draco took a sip of his pumpkin juice before answering. "I've recently begun seeing someone new," he explained, "and he's a rather jealous individual. He doesn't approve of other people sending me love letters and gifts."

"Ah, a new love interest," crowed Rita, her eyes gleaming at this tidbit. "And who is the man fortunate enough to have captured your heart?"

Draco leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. "Can you keep a secret?"

Skeeter flushed with excitement and bent closer, whispering, "Of course, I can."

"So can I," Draco said maliciously, sitting back in his seat with a smirk.

Skeeter's mouth dropped open in dismay. "That was a rotten..." her voice trailed off in a shriek, and she pushed her chair back in alarm. 

Draco looked to determine what the problem was, and he saw Potter standing on three legs and thoroughly wetting Skeeter's ankle with a stream of yellow liquid. Containing his laughter with an effort, Draco instead scolded, "Bad doggie, bad doggie!"

"That mutt just relieved itself on my expensive stockings, and all you can say is, 'Bad doggie'?!" snarled Skeeter, standing and aiming a kick at Potter. Her aim wasn't as good as his, however, and he darted away unscathed and hid under Draco's chair.

"I'll reimburse you for the stockings, Ms. Skeeter," Draco said, struggling to sound chagrined. "In the meantime, have a good day," he added dismissively. With a muttered oath, Rita Skeeter spun and stalked away, leaving Draco to sag over the table and give in to the hilarity that he had managed to contain up to that point. 

Potter hopped up onto the chair next to him and nicked a slice of ham from his plate, and Draco didn't even scold him for it.

*****

After the terrific start to his morning--after all, who wouldn't want to see a dog urinate on Rita Skeeter?--it was inevitable that Draco's day would have to get worse. He was wandering down the aisles of the apothecary, searching for some obscure potions ingredients, while Potter trotted along beside him. Occasionally, Potter would drop back or range ahead of Draco, but for the most part, he remained close. 

As Draco neared the back of the shop, only one other person was browsing there. He was dressed in a dark cloak and standing with his back to Draco as he perused a section containing various fish scales. As Draco went to turn away, Potter growled, low in his throat. Draco glanced down to see the hackles up along Potter's back. "What's wrong, Princess?" he asked. 

Sudden movement from the shop's other patron caught his eye, and Draco looked up to see the man spinning to face him, drawing his wand. Potter gave a surprisingly savage bark for such a little dog, and he launched his tiny body at the would-be attacker, knocking the man off balance and causing the hex he had fired to go high and wide. 

Draco's own wand was out in an instant. "Stupefy!" he cried, hitting his assailant squarely in the chest. 

Harry shifted back long enough to draw his own wand and cast a Patronus. The stag went galloping off to the Ministry, and Harry transformed back into the guise of "Princess" just as the shopkeeper came bustling into their aisle, demanding to know what was going on.

Draco scooped Potter up in his arms and buried his face in his silky fur.

*****

"What made you suspect him?" Draco asked Harry. They had returned to his house once a small cadre of Aurors had responded to Harry's Patronus, arriving to take Draco's assailant into custody. Harry had spent some time communicating with others at the Ministry, both by Floo and Muggle cell phone, and it was only recently that things had settled down once more.

Harry, who was stood by the window while awaiting an owl from the Ministry, replied without turning. "The cloak he was wearing was much too heavy for this time of year."

Draco was forming a quip about Potter noticing another bloke's clothing, when the arrival of a messenger owl forestalled his comment. He waited impatiently while Harry read through the note, then asked, "What does it say?"

"The man, Penrod Sweetwood is his name, was questioned extensively, both with and without Veritaserum," Harry remarked, glancing up from the message. 

"Did they learn anything?" questioned Draco from across the room. He'd been too keyed up to sit and had been pacing for some time.

"Not a lot," Harry sighed. "Unfortunately, Sweetwood didn't know too much, himself. He was hired to hit you with a Stupefy, then activate a Portkey and place it on your person, whereupon you would be delivered to your unknown enemy."

Draco shuddered at the thought. If Potter hadn't intervened today, it was possible that he would be dead by now. "Does the Ministry have any leads at all?"

"No, but we do have a plan," Harry said, his voice coming out somewhat stilted. 

For some reason, that simple statement sent a chill through Draco. He was about to ask Harry to clarify what he meant, when his house-elf knocked quietly and announced that two visitors were here to see Master Harry. 

"Aurors," Harry remarked, and Draco nodded his permission for the guests to be shown in. 

Ronald Weasley entered the parlor, flanked by a woman Draco didn't recognize. Weasley's partner, he surmised. 

"Did you bring the items?" Harry asked, causing Draco to look his way in confusion. 

"Here's the Portkey, mate," Weasley replied, withdrawing a coin from his pocket and flipping it into the air before catching it once more. 

"I have the pol-the potion," his partnered added, glancing guiltily at Draco as she pulled a small vial from her own cloak.

"Are you sure going alone is the best plan, Harry?" Ron questioned, glaring at him glumly. 

"If more than one person arrives via Portkey, our man will most likely make a quick escape," Harry countered. "Besides, I'll have an advantage. He's expecting Draco to come through completely incapacitated, whereas I'll be alert and ready for him." 

"Just what are you planning?" demanded Draco, not liking the sound of this at all. 

Harry met his challenging stare calmly. "I am going to allow the Portkey to take me to what was intended to be your final destination, whereupon I will apprehend the person who has been threatening you." As he spoke, Harry approached Draco and took the tense man in his arms, rubbing his hands up and down Draco's back.

"It will never work, Potter," Draco said tautly. "As soon as he sees you there instead of me, he'll Apparate away."

Harry leaned his head close and whispered, "I already thought of that." With no further warning, he reached up and plucked a few hairs from Draco's scalp.

"Ouch!" Draco squawked, reaching automatically to rub his sore head. 

Harry whirled away from him and crossed the room to the female Auror. "Give me the potion," he instructed, holding out his hand. He uncorked the vial and dropped Draco's hair inside.

"Polyjuice!" Draco gasped in shock, grasping what Potter intended. "Harry, no..."

"It's the only way," Harry interrupted, turning his back to Draco as he gulped down the contents of the vial. He rushed from the room, and Draco heard a door slam from down the corridor. 

Turning to appeal to Weasley, Draco said, "You aren't going to let him go alone, are you?"

Weasley shrugged. "Harry knows what he's doing. Besides, he's the best Auror there is. That bloke won't stand a chance," he finished confidently. 

At that moment, Harry returned to the parlor. For Draco, it was like looking at a mirror, and he suffered a sense of disorientation. 

"Where's the Portkey?" Harry asked, striding into the room without looking at Draco. He didn't know if he could bear seeing the expression on his face.

"Right here, mate," Ron replied, tossing him the coin. 

Harry checked his wand, then risked a glance at Draco. Harry winced at his lover's pale countenance. "It will be fine," he said firmly, addressing Draco and hoping to alleviate his fears. Turning back to Ron, he asked, "How do I activate the Portkey?" As he spoke, Harry lay down on the floor, knowing that their target expected Draco to be prone when he arrived. 

Ron shrugged and said only, "Flower child."

Harry disappeared before their eyes, and Draco wobbled over to the sofa and sank down on it, resigned to waiting for word of his lover.

*****

If nothing else, Harry discovered that traveling by Portkey while lying down was the way to go. He still felt that sickening pull at his navel, but he didn't have to worry about his landing. 

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, how good of you to join me," cackled a voice to his right. Harry fought not to tense up, keeping his breathing as calm as possible. "I had thought to kill you right away," continued the voice, "but perhaps I should make you suffer first. It's no less than you deserve, after the shabby manner in which you've treated my daughter."

Harry heard the scuffing of boots on the dirty floor, then a rustle of cloth. Cracking one eye open, he saw a shadowy figure drawing his wand. "Cru..."

Harry rolled quickly and came up with his own wand. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted. His attacker's wand sailed from his hand, and the man himself was thrown back from the force of Harry's hastily cast hex. Harry surged to his feet and cast a quick "Incarcerous!" Approaching the man cautiously, he crouched and flipped his hood back. "Leonard Greengrass?!"

*****

"Hell hath no fury like the father of a woman scorned," shrugged Draco, reclining at ease on his bed.

"I just don't understand pure-bloods," sighed Harry. "Greengrass seems to have taken your spurning of Daphne as a personal insult."

"I broke my betrothal to Daphne's sister," Draco corrected him absently.

"Wisteria?"

"Astoria."

"Whatever," shrugged Harry. "Why not challenge you to a duel or something? Why would he sneak around, trying to kill you?"

"Because he's a Slytherin," Draco explained, as if surprised Harry had to ask. Before the Auror could comment, Draco added, "So, now what happens?"

"Are you going to miss your little doggie?" teased Harry, leaning close to nibble lightly on Draco's throat. 

"Is my little doggie going somewhere?" Draco managed to gasp. 

Harry sat back, his grin fading into a more serious expression. "Not if you tell me to stay," he said gruffly. 

"You're leaving the decision up to me?" drawled Draco, raising himself on his elbows. At Harry's cautious nod, he appeared to give the matter some serious thought. "Hmm, I suppose I should weigh the pros and cons," he remarked. "Let's see...if you leave, I'll have no more dog hair drifting about my home, no more accidents on the rug..." he ignored Harry's snort of protest and went on, "...no morning doggie breath..."

Harry growled.

"And, oh yes, no more growling!"

"You told me you liked my growling," Harry pointed out crossly.

"So I did," Draco admitted. "Very well, then; I shall keep you."

By now, Harry was vexed with his lover. "Perhaps I don't want to stay," he said loftily.

"Nonsense, of course you'll stay," declared Draco. "You are far too fond of me to leave."

"Shall we seal this bargain with a shag, then?" suggested Harry, looming over Draco and pressing him back against the pillows. 

"It's my turn to do the shagging," Draco pointed out, arching an imperious brow. 

Harry groaned and rolled to his back. "Then you can do all the work," he pouted. 

Draco seemed to take it as a challenge, and Harry had never been spread, lubed and stretched so quickly in his life. In fact, Draco didn't pause until he was completely buried in his lover's snug heat. He smiled down at Harry and teased, "My hero."

Harry arched beneath him and pulled his legs up, locking his ankles behind Draco's back. "You never did thank me for saving your life, you know," he pointed out. 

"Shall I remedy that now, then?" teased Draco, drawing back and sliding in again. Harry's eyes fluttered shut, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan. "You like that?" rasped Draco, holding to his maddeningly slow pace. 

"I'd like it...a little faster," puffed Harry, slitting his eyes open enough to glare. Draco responded by pounding into him, quick and hard. Rather than be put off by it, however, Harry moaned in enjoyment and tightened his legs around his lover's body, hanging on for the ride. 

What had started out as a lark for Draco in response to Harry's complaint soon became something more. He found himself quite unable to slow his powerful thrusts, and he continued to surge into his lover. The headboard began banging against the wall, the sound nearly drowning its occupants' gasps and groans of pleasure. 

Harry's climax built from the base of his spine and spread into his nether regions until his release exploded from him, pulsing between their bodies and becoming smeared with Draco's continued movements on him. Harry melted into the mattress, his body relaxed and lethargic...

Until Draco's small clock tumbled from the top of the bed and hit him on the head. 

"Ouch!" he yelped.

"Take it...you ponce," grunted Draco, thrusting harder.

"Fucker," muttered Harry, reaching up to rub at his forehead. Draco suddenly stiffened above him, and the results of his climax spurted deep inside of Harry.

Once Draco's orgasm subsided, he collapsed on top of Harry, startling an oof out of his lover. Grinning happily, his smile faltered when he noticed the welt over Harry's left eye. "What happened to your head?" he asked.

"Your clock fell on me," Harry replied sourly.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise, then he snorted with laughter.

"Get off of me, you gigantic tit!" seethed Harry, shoving at Draco's shoulder.

Draco rolled away, still laughing. When he glanced over and saw Harry still scowling at him, he smirked and said, "Come on, you have to admit that was funny. We'll still be laughing about this years from now!"

Harry was about to berate his lover further, when Draco's mention of years from nowgave him pause. They hadn't discussed it outright, but he could no longer imagine his future without Draco in it, and it seemed as if Draco felt the same. Rolling to his side to face the blond, he ventured, "Do you reckon we'll still be together years from now?"

The somber question sobered Draco somewhat, and his smirk gentled into a smile as he replied, "I'd like to try."

Harry's own face broke into a wide smile, and he pulled Draco close for a cuddle. Hiding his face in the crook of his lover's neck, he whispered, "That's good, because I...I think I love you." Some of his tension eased when he felt Draco kiss the top of his head.

"I think I love you, too...Princess." 

Finite